Chapter 5

As Isobel had expected, the day passed by slowly. In culinary regard, luncheon was another disaster that left her hungry and disgusted at the same time. She spent the day in the vain hope tea could at least turn out to be decent enough.

"I have to say the fish - or whatever it is supposed to be - leaves me back humble," Clarkson admitted to Isobel when he gave up the fight and placed his cutlery on the half-filled plate. "I'll never again complain about my housekeeper's burned roast."

"It's always good to remember how to value the small things in life," Isobel agreed. "Did you enjoy your walk with Mrs Rogers?"

Surprised she was the one to come up with the subject, he answered, "As a matter of fact, I did. She's a very intelligent woman."

"I'm glad to hear you're not wasting your time with someone you don't consider an equal." It was another wounding shot she delivered with excellent accuracy. Sometimes he wondered if she had to give these remarks a lot of thought, if she practised them or if she simply made them up as she went along. With her every option was possible. He leaned in closely and whispered with deliberate stoism, "A mask tells us more than a face."

She didn't answer. The look she gave him was not aloof, it was merely an acknowledgment of being verbally beaten - for the time being.

######

By tea time the weather had taken a turn for the worse once more. Dark clouds rushed over the estate and the wind tore at the leaf-filled branches of the old trees. Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance. Isobel didn't believe in foreshadowing, but she hoped the severe weather wasn't a bad omen for the things to come.

Just like the day before tea was served all over the ground floor. To Isobel's astonishment Mrs Rogers had chosen to join her for tea while Clarkson had found it in him to finally talk to Sir Leander, whose roaring laughter filled every room he entered. Right now Isobel heard him talking behind her near the fireplace in the drawing room. Isobel and Eudora were sitting on the sofa near the window. The cake was dry and the tea cold and bitter, so much for her hope to be served something decent for a change.

"Tell me, Mrs Clarkson, is it true you've been married before?"

Isobel gulped her tea and shuddered with disgust. "Yes, why?"

"I was just wondering," Eudora shrugged. "I've been a widow for two years now and very often I find life… rather difficult."

"To be alone?" Isobel wondered. She thought of Eudora's interest in Clarkson and added, "Or to imagine marrying again?"

"Actually, it's both at the same time," Eudora admitted.

"Well, Doctor Crawley's been dead for almost twenty years now. Time can't heal everything, but life becomes easier."

"But you've also lost your son, haven't you?"

"I did." Isobel began to feel uncomfortable. She hated to be reminded of Matthew by a complete stranger and what she hated more was the fact that Clarkson obviously had blurted out everything about her - aside from the tiny fact that she wasn't his wife.

"I'm sorry, if I come across as impertinent," Eudora said when she realised that Isobel didn't respond well to her questioning. "Doctor Clarkson told me about you and I think it's quite admirable that you've handled yourself so well."

"I wasn't left much of a choice," Isobel said, a bit too snappy for her own taste, but she couldn't help it. Eudora Rogers was by now testing her patience, which usually brought out the worst in her. Was there a way to escape this conversation, before she flew off the handle? In the corner of her eye she saw Dickie talking to Sir Leander and Doctor Clarkson. What a trio - and a jump from the frying pan into the fire, if she joined them. Winifred was nowhere to be seen. In other words, her options were limited.

"The Doctor told me, he had made his mission to bring you back to life after your son's death. Was that the point when you fell in love with him?"

Isobel almost dropped her tea cup. "I beg your pardon? Did he tell you that?"

"Yes… this morning when we took our walk." Eudora shrugged. "Was that supposed to be a secret? If so, I'm sorry to…"

"A secret…." Isobel cut her off and cleared her throat. "Let me tell you about a secret…"

#######

"Darling, can we talk for a moment?"

The innocent question and her chosen term of affection didn't bode well with Clarkson. The sweetness in her voice was alarming - even chilling. It perfectly matched the angry thunder that rolled over Alderberry. He sensed Isobel was on the warpath - and he was the obvious war party.

"Excuse me, please." He nodded at Dickie and Sir Leander and followed Isobel out of the room.

"What a charming woman, don't you agree?" Sir Leander asked Dickie.

"Yes, she is," Dickie answered as he watched Isobel with Clarkson in tow leaving the room. He still hadn't recovered from their conversation in the morning. He had wanted to apologise to her and had ended up questioning everything good about what was left of their relationship. Perhaps he had betrayed himself the last couple of months. If he couldn't marry her, he had at least wanted to be friends with her. Being friends was better than nothing after all, but it was also so much more painful than not having her at all. What did Oscar Wilde say?

Friendship is far more tragic than love. It lasts longer.

"What is it, my friend? You seem absent-minded today." Sir Leander asked.

"Nothing in particular," Dickie answered. "I was just thinking about marriage."

"Awful, awful subject, my friend. Not every woman's like Doctor Crawley's wife, you know. Neither in looks nor in spirit."

"Oh yes, I know." Dickie thought about his late wife Ada and their miserable relationship that had lasted for thirty years. It was always unfair to compare people to one another. His love for Isobel was unmatched by any other love he had experienced.

"Tell me one thing," Sir Leander leaned in closer and lowered his voice. "How did a man like Clarkson convince her to marry him? I mean being the bore as he is… how could he win her heart."

"Oh well…" Dickie had no idea what to answer. Even after his conversation with Isobel this morning he didn't know why Isobel had decided to play his wife. He knew she wasn't Clarkson's wife, perhaps she even had no intention to marry him at all. He knew about her notorious wish to help other people, knew she couldn't sit around and do nothing when help was needed. It was part of her very nature not to look away, but Clarkson was hardly in grave danger. He could have easily lied about his absent wife, if he had wanted to. So, what was the true issue behind their charade?

"Perhaps he asked at the right time and the right place," Dickie suggested vaguely.

Sir Leander answered with roaring laughter. "I guess you're right."

Dickie looked around, wishing there was a way to escape. He had no wish to discuss Isobel with anyone, especially not with a boisterous man like Leander.

"Excuse me, please," Dickie said with a nod. He disposed of his tea cup - the sludge tasted like rat poison - and left the room. In the hallway he ran into Winifred who was obviously looking for him. Her face brightened up when she laid eyes on him. With relief he noticed that she didn't appear drunk for a change.

"Lord Merton! How good to see you."

"Lady Ward."

"I hope you haven't forgotten about our engagement."

"Engagement?"

"Our tour around the house," she reminded him.

"Ah yes, of course!"

"Let me show you one of my favourite rooms. You'll find it's going to play an important role tonight."

She linked arms with him and led him away from the mingling crowd. She opened the door next to the library and showed him in.

"This was my mother-in-law's sitting room," she said.

"It's a bit dark," Dickie remarked as his eyes travelled across the dark furniture. The curtains were dark green and so heavy that they swallowed most of the daylight. The heavy rain and the drumming of the thunderstorm outside only underlined the depressing nature of the room.

"It is dark," Winifred confirmed. "But it's the perfect room for tonight."

"And why?"

"Well…," she chuckled. "You have to promise not to tell anyone."

"I solemnly swear not to tell a single soul," Dickie said, trying his best not to sound too mockingly.

"Very well. I guess you're a man to be trusted. You see tonight, we'll have a séance."

"We will what?" To say he was let down by the announcement was an understatement. He hated this kind of 'entertainment'. Ada used to love it and in the past Cavenham had often been the stage for all kinds of spiritists and other frauds. She had spent a fortune on them and Dickie truly dreaded the idea of having to live through another evening with ghosts and gasps. As if the bad food wasn't enough to endure…

"A séance. A friend of mine is a spiritist and she agreed to contact the spirits for us tonight. She will arrive very soon."

"How…"

"Mysterious?" she suggested.

"That's one way to describe it."

She took his elbow, "So, if there's anyone you wish to contact tonight, just let me know. I'll put in a word for you."

Dickie thought of Ada, the only member of his family, who had recently died. He doubted she was resting in peace, but he wasn't eager to ask her about her state in the afterlife. "Right now I can't think of anyone, to be honest."

Winifred closed the door behind them. As they passed the library, they stopped dead when they heard a crashing noise from the inside. Winifred startled and intensified her grip around his arm.

"What was this?"

"Let's find out," Dickie suggested. He went to the door and Winifred stayed right behind on his heels. Actually she was so close, he could feel her breath tickling the back of his neck. When his hand closed around the door knob the door flew open and Isobel bumped into him. She had stormed out of the room with such force that Dickie tumbled backwards. He stepped on Winifred's toes. She screamed and almost knocked down a lamp. Yet Dickie had only eyes for Isobel who radiated with something he couldn't fathom. Her cheeks were flushed and the sparkle in her blue eyes could have started a fire. Behind her Clarkson appeared, looking rather sheepishly. His hair was astray and he quickly straightened his jacket.

"I'm sorry," Isobel said to Lady Ward, ignoring Dickie. "I'm afraid that the rather beautiful vase near the window is broken. I hope it wasn't an heirloom."

Winifred, still flabbergasted by the whole incident, looked carefully over Isobel's shoulder. "Oh… it's not… It was a wedding present. Never mind that old thing. Is everyone… all right?" she wondered when she looked at Clarkson whose lame attempts to make him look less dishevelled only made him look worse.

"Everything's perfectly fine!" Isobel said in a tone of voice that didn't allow any objection. She turned her head to look at Clarkson. "Isn't it true, Darling?"

Dickie looked at Clarkson who just nodded. "Perfectly fine, Darling."

####tbc####

Things are getting interesting as they say ;-). What do you think happened in the library? What will happen at the séance? Has Eudora a secret agenda? So many questions... let me know what you think!