Thank you so much for your kind comments. Enjoy the next chapter and let me know if you can keep up with my overworking brain! LOL
Chapter Four
Isobel found Dickie sitting in Matthew's old study. After Dickie's move in they had refurnished the room and Dickie had brought the bigger part of his Cavenham library and his desk with him. Aside from the drawing room where they usually spent their evenings together, the library was his favourite room in Crawley House. It was his safe haven and Isobel barely disturbed him in here. Tonight she had to make an exception. Annabelle's bombshell had hit her like a steam engine. If she felt betrayed and hurt by Annabelle's revelation, how must Dickie feel? He hated conflict and lies more than anything else. Aside from the huge shock, Isobel tried to understand what had happened and why. Why would Annabelle tell him about a love child at this point in their lives? What did she have to gain from such an outrageous admission?
Isobel closed the door softly behind her and crossed the room. Dickie sat behind his desk, an open carafe and an empty glass in front of him. The smell of Whiskey hung in the air.
"Are you all right?" she asked. She stepped behind his chair and placed her hands on his shoulders. She felt the tension beneath the fabric of his jacket and gave him a gentle squeeze.
"I don't know," he admitted flatly. "What did she tell you?"
"She told me, you're the father of her daughter. Is it true?"
Dickie groaned and rubbed his forehead. "I wish I knew."
"Do you believe her?" she asked, her heart missing a beat while she waited for his answer.
"Let's say she never lied to me before." Lost in his thoughts he picked up the letter up his favourite pen and turned it between his fingers.
"Does she ask for money?" Isobel asked.
"Money… If it only were that easy." He sighed, put the pen aside, and reached out to take her hand.
"What else does she want?" She still feared Annabelle was trying to rekindle her relationship with Dickie. What if not a common child could be her perfect excuse to get close to him again?
"I'm afraid the story is far more complicated than one can expect it."
"And what do you mean by that?" Puzzled, she freed her hand and circled the chair. She leaned against the edge of the desk and watched him closely. She hadn't seen him this unhappy since the day he had told her about his misdiagnosed illness.
"I'm all ears," she said, when she saw him struggling for an answer. "You can tell me everything."
He gave her an admiring smile, "I keep forgetting how strong you are."
"And if you go on scaring me like this, Mrs Kent will be at the receiving end of my strength," she said and drew a deep breath. "Because if she thinks some sorry tale about a love child will rout me…" She never finished her statement, because Dickie rose and took her hands into his.
"This isn't about me, my Darling, at least not the way, you think. Annabelle's asked for my help, because she's afraid."
"Afraid of what?"
"Of losing her daughter when she learns the truth about her true parentage." Dickie offered Isobel his chair and said, "I think it's best you sat down. If you ever wondered how messed up our family is, you'll be in for another, quite unplesant surprise."
The next day
"I think, I need to sit down," the Dowager said. Isobel couldn't remember a time when she had seen Violet being actually speechless, but it seemed the moment had come.
Violet sank into her armchair by the fireplace. Isobel could tell her shock was real and so she gave her friend a moment to recover.
"Should I ring for Spratt?" Isobel offered. "He could bring us some tea."
"Please, do so."
By the time Spratt had left the drawing room, Violet was her old self again.
"I have to admit that family of yours is giving the Crawleys a run for their money," Violet said. "Between all the mischief Mary and Rose have come up with over the years the Greys take the biscuit."
Isobel nodded, but she couldn't share Violet's barely hidden delight. After what Dickie had told her last night it wasn't just a scandal that was looming over their heads. It was also a tragedy that could cause a lot of bad blood between Dickie and his oldest son Larry. The relationship between Dickie and his sons had been strained for decades and after Dickie's wedding to Isobel the contact between the three men had broken off almost completely. Until this day Isobel had spent less than three family dinners with her step-children and neither of them mourned the infrequency of their family meetings.
"What does Dickie say to all of this?" Violet asked.
Isobel shrugged. "He's shocked, but prepared to do what's necessary."
The Dowager seemed almost impressed. "What an undertaking! When will he talk to Larry and even more important how much will he tell him?"
"As a matter of fact, he's talking to Larry right now," Isobel explained. "I sneaked out of the house to allow them some privacy."
"If I were you I would rather be a fly at the wall. If the late Lady Merton had been more of a fly at the wall, none of this would have happened."
Isobel huffed. "I doubt Ada was bothered by any of it. The life they led was horrible."
Spratt came in, armed with a filled tray and the two women interrupted their conversation until he had left the room again.
"I'm still waiting for my letters to be answered," Violet reported as she filled Isobel's cup with tea.
"I'm very grateful, but I don't think it'll be of much use," Isobel said. "I mean we know the truth now - or at least Mrs. Kent told us her version of it."
"Don't throw the towel just yet," Violet smirked. "A woman like Mrs Kent must have more skeletons in her closet than just one. It can't hurt to find out what else she's hiding from us."
"That's quite grim," Isobel shuttered.
"It's the romantic in me," Violet said dryly and sipped her tea.
In Crawley House Larry Grey was pacing the drawing room like a caged tiger. Dickie was standing at the window and stared outside into the falling snow.
"I don't know what exactly it is you're suggesting, Father, but it's ridiculous!" Larry barked.
"Is it ridiculous?" Dickie returned the question without facing his son. "I don't intend to intrude myself into your marriage, but…"
"Then you shouldn't!" Larry hissed.
"But Amelia is carrying your first child," Dickie continued unimpressed by Larry's demeanour. "An extramarital affair with another woman is not what she deserves in her condition."
"What do you know about Amelia or about me?" Larry asked. "And whoever told you about my so called affair is lying."
Finally Dickie turned around to face his oldest son. Larry's usually pale complexion had vanished. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes glittered. Larry was lying and Dickie knew it.
"I doubt I was told a lie," Dickie said. "I know you too well, Larry."
"Do you?" Larry bit his lip.
"Your marriage to Amelia isn't what you hoped for, is it?" Dickie asked, knowing he was right. "But as things are you're stuck with her. Just as I was stuck…"
"With my mother," Larry finished Dickie's sentence. The bitterness flooding out of the younger man was palpable, causing Dickie to flinch.
"Don't ruin Amelia or Helen Rouquette's life by making the mistake a lot of other men in our position made," Dickie said, struggling to keep up his act.
"How do you know her name?" Larry asked perplexed.
"I told you I have my sources." Cursing himself for the mention of Annabelle's daughter's name, Dickie avoided his sons' piercing eyes.
"This conversation is over and I suggest we never mention it again." Larry stormed to the door and opened it. "Give my best to Isobel... Come to think about it, don't."
~tbc~