Chapter 7

Madame Rosmerta was screaming. It was a long, high-pitched sound that reminded Clarkson of a fingernail that scratched over a blackboard.

"What's going on?" Eudora asked irritated, once Rosmerta had finished her outburst.

"We have to leave this room at once!" The spiritist jumped up and hastened to the door.

"But Madame…." Winifred was aghast and decided to follow her. Realising that she was the hostess and carried some responsibility for her guests, she stopped dead, turned back to them and said, "Excuse me, please!"

Clarkson and Eudora exchanged a bewildered look. "I guess that means the show is over," she mused.

"It looks like it," Clarkson agreed. "I think we deserve a drink - my guess is it will be the only available spirit we're about to get tonight."

######

Inside the library Dickie remained where he was, but the darkness and the mysterious scream from a woman were definitely tainting the atmosphere. His proposal had been a spontaneous one, but this turn of events was too much for his taste.

"I'm not sure I know what is going on here," he admitted.

"You can say that again…"

With the fire behind his back he saw shadows of the flames dancing across the room. Her face was unreadable, perhaps it was a mixture of shock and surprise that made her more or less speechless. After seconds of unbearable silence between them, she reached out to touch his cheek with her gloved hand. Her thumb ran over his skin and he wished to feel the warmth of skin, not the cold satin. Then she did something he hadn't expected. She sank from the chair into a kneeling position in front of him and leaned in for a kiss. He forgot about his aching knee and did his best to hold his balance while his arm closed her around her middle. He had waited for this moment ever since he had first laid his eyes on her.

"I love you, Isobel," he said hoarsely when he pulled back. "Please, don't tell me, you…"

The door opened and two men bursted in. Dickie finally lost his balance and fell to the side, tearing Isobel with him who didn't know whether she wanted to laugh or sigh with pain. Still, she had the presence of mind to silence Dickie with her index finger. One of the men was Sir Leander, the other one a man she hadn't seen before. They were arguing and didn't notice the couple on the floor near the fireplace.

"So that was your plan? To cheat at poker to settle debts?" the stranger bluffed at Leander. "And this mad woman with the red hair was supposed to talk to ghosts! Ghosts don't have wallets!"

"I didn't cheat!" Leander said, but Isobel couldn't say she found him convincing. The stranger grabbed Leander's collar and pulled him closer.

"You can't pay your servants, you serve food that's considered too bad to be given to a workhouse, and you want to steal from your guests. Tell me, Sir Leander, is there anything you wouldn't do to weasle your way out of this?"

"You're getting this completely wrong!"

Dickie and Isobel exchanged a look. Should they make themselves known? Or wait until the coast was clear? She shook her head. This was too interesting to interrupt!

"I'm getting this right!" The stranger pushed Leander to the floor. "I'll be back tomorrow and I expect you to pay me every guinea before I call people who really know how to deal with men like you." The man spit at Leanders' feet and left.

Once the door closed behind the intruder, Leander groaned and rolled over on his belly - only to find Isobel and Dickie huddling on the floor.

"What the hell…" he started, but it was Dickie who cut him off this time.

"Excuse me, Sir, but I think you're the one who has some explaining to do!"

#####

"Sir Leander is facing bankruptcy?" Clarkson stumbled a bit backwards, blinding searching for a chair. They had gathered in Clarkson's room. After the power outburst the guests had all retreated to their room. At least Dickie had managed to find two old oil lamps in a lumber room that spent enough light to have a decent conversation.

"I'm afraid he is," Isobel confirmed. "He hasn't paid the servants for weeks."

"Hence the bad food. And he also hasn't paid his electricity bills," Dickie continued and pointed at the lamp in his other hand.

"And who in his right mind gives a houseparty when they're bankrupt?" Clarkson couldn't wrap his head around it. As a country doctor surrounded by all sorts of folk he had had to listen to a lot of crazy stories, lame excuses, and unheard superstition, but this was the cherry on top of them all.

"Someone who hopes to win at the gambling table," Dickie said. "Apparently that was his plan. The other part of the plan was that Madame Rosmerta and her spirits were supposed to tell people to donate money to some obscure charity whose patroness happens to be Lady Ward."

"The charity," Isobel explained. "Is a scheme that redirects money to Sir Leander's bank account."

"I can't believe it." Clarkson shook his head. "And all this time I thought he's made a better life than I ever could."

"He's a fraud and I doubt he has been anything else in the past." Dickies' eyes glistened with sympathy. "I can imagine how you feel."

Clarkson sighed. "I doubt it, but I appreciate the effort."

"Is there anything we… I can do for you?" Isobel asked in a friendly tone of voice. Clarkson looked at her and his eyes widened in shock when he realised he had been sitting in her presence while she was standing. He rose quickly. "Thank you, but I think I need some time to recover from the shock."

"That's understandable. I'll take my leave now," Dickie nodded at Clarkson and to Isobel who placed her gloved hand on his arm. "Wait a moment, please."

"I'll be in the hallway," he said.

Once the door had closed behind Dickie Isobel turned to Clarkson. "I want to apologise," she said.

Sensing he was in for the next surprise, Clarkson clawed backwards for the rest of the chair.

"There's no need…," he started, but, as it was her usual habit, she interrupted him. "I mean it. I wasn't on my best behaviour this weekend. I blame the circumstances."

"I shouldn't have persuaded you to come," he countered. "It was a mad idea from the start. I've made a fool out of myself."

She couldn't argue with that, but decided to let it go. It was time to move on. "I guess, that means we're even?"

"We are…," he sighed. "So, what about you and Lord Merton?"

"What about us?"

"Please, Mrs Crawley… I think you know what I mean. Don't force me to spell it out for you."

"Well, he proposed," she answered and he noticed the glitter in her eyes. It hurt, of course, but not as much as it used to.

"Again?"

"Again."

"And? Will you accept him?"

"I want to…"

"But?"

"Don't force me to spell it out, Doctor."

"You're afraid. Of what? Gossip?"

"His family's… a challenge."

"You've earned the respect and the affection of the Dowager Countess of Grantham. It cannot get more challenging than that."

She chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Good. And now off you go. He's waiting for you."

"Thank you." She smiled at him and left his room. Being alone with himself Clarkson considered his options - and decided to look for Eudora Rogers. Perhaps he was indeed in need of a wife, just not the one he had had in mind before.

######

As promised he waited for her in the dark hallway, holding the oil lamp. She smiled when she realised how the soft light was guiding the way to him.

"Come with me," she said and took his free hand. When he realised she was pulling him to her bedroom he hesitated.

"Unless you want to have some privacy, you will have to trust me," she said with a light chuckle.

"Are you sure? What if someone…"

"We're in the house of the biggest fraud since Gregor MacGregor," she said. "I doubt we're of interest to anyone tonight."

Inside her bedroom she took the lamp and placed it on her bedside cabinet. With a swift half turn she leaned into him and kissed him softly on the lips.

"I think we've been interrupted earlier," she whispered against his lips. His arms closed around her and she leaned her head against his shoulder. Feeling utterly content she exhaled deeply and enjoyed feeling him so close against her.

"Just to make sure, I'm not getting this wrong," he said. "Does that mean you're accepting my proposal?"

She leaned back a little to have a look at his features. "Yes, I am accepting it… I want to marry you."

"Thank heavens." He cupped her face with his hands and kissed her gently.

"I've kept you waiting, haven't I?" she mused when he pulled back.

"A little," he admitted. "But if you marry me now, it was worth every wait." He kissed her forehead.

"I'm not sure that's true, but I'm too happy to argue."

"And what about Doctor Clarkson?" he wondered. "He's the only man I know who found and lost a wife in a matter of two days."

"He will be fine," she said.

"You do know, he's in love with you, right?" He crooked his eyebrow when she shook her head.

"He's in love with the idea of me," she corrected him. "It would never work out between us and I think he's finally understood that."

He wasn't convinced. He thought of the sight of them leaving the library together in the afternoon. The tension between them had been palpable and despite the fact that she had agreed to become his wife, he needed to know what had been going on between them in the library.

"What happened this afternoon?" he repeated his question from earlier. "Please, I need to know."

"We argued and I threw the vase at him. He ducked down and the vase ended against the shelves. I hope it wasn't part of the Great Ming."

His eyes widened in shock. "What on earth did he say to make you do that?"

"It wasn't so much what he said, but his… way of saying it," she explained. "He behaved as if it were his right to tell me how to behave. I'm afraid I don't take it very well when people think they can stir me as if I didn't have a mind of my own."

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"You better do," she chuckled. "And now I have a question for you."

"Anything, my darling."

"What you said about Cavenham… leaving it for good… did you mean it?"

"Every word."

"So, you wouldn't mind moving into Crawley House with me? Because I happen to be very fond of it."

"I'm fond of it myself," he answered, "It happens to be occupied by the most beautiful woman I know."

"Flatterer." She grinned at him, but he was dead serious. "I'm serious. I can't think of anything more beautiful than waking up next to you in Crawley House."

"So, we have a plan," she beamed at him.

"The very best of plans," he agreed. "And now I should go, before someone finds me in here and wonders why it is me and not your 'husband'."

She wouldn't release him and rolled up on her tiptoes to kiss him. This time she involved him in a long and deep kiss that made him reconsider his announcement. "Don't tempt me," he whispered when he broke away from her. "I'm just a man, not a saint."

"Oscar Wilde said, the only way of getting rid of temptation is to yield to it…," she reminded him cheekily.

"As far as I know he ended up in prison and died young," Dickie countered. "And I intend to live by your side for as long as possible.."

"I'll take your word for it."

"Good night, my darling." He blew her a kiss and sneaked out of her room. Tipsy with happiness she fell backwards onto her bed and closed her eyes. She wouldn't sleep a wink tonight, but it was all worth it.

#####

Three days later Robert and Mary were sitting at the breakfast table when Barrow came in and delivered the morning post.

"It's from Isobel," Robert said when he picked up the first letter. "How strange. She was here for dinner last night."

"What does she write?" Mary asked curiously.

"Let me see…," he quickly scanned the lines and grinned. "It's an invitation for us all. She expects us at Crawley House at seven thirty this evening."

"How strange…" Mary mused and took the letter from Robert to read it herself. "If she wanted our undivided attention, she got it."

"Certainly. It reminds me of something. I met Dickie Merton in the village yesterday. He was leaving the post office. When I asked him if he had time to join me for a drink, he said he had another appointment to attend to."

"Which led him to Crawley House?"

Robert grinned, "At least that's where he went to."

"Do you think we're in for another engagement dinner?" Mary wondered.

"That would be a nice turn of events," he answered. "They deserve some happiness."

"I wonder if that means we will have to dine with Larry."

Robert turned pale, "Golly."

"So, no sharp objects near Tom - just in case." Mary smirked.

"I'm sure Isobel can handle him. If she again agreed to marry Dickie Merton, she wouldn't have done so without considering his next of kin."

"I guess, you're right. I wonder what granny makes of it."

"She will be pleased for Isobel and in case Larry throws another tantrum, she'll enjoy the entertainment," Robert said. "Remind me to applaud Dickie for his perseverance. Isobel was a tough nut to crack."

"So Isobel will become Baroness Merton," Mary mused. "That's not too shabby."

"All's well that ends well," Robert summed up. "At least for the time being."

###The End###

I hope you enjoyed reading this little tale, because I certainly enjoyed writing it. Let me know what you think, because for me that's the only way to know, if it makes sense to write more about them. Have a great sunday!