Chapter Ten

After he had convinced himself that his driver was on the mend and could be released from hospital to spent Christmas at home, Dickie left the ward and went down the hallway. Hoping the same could be said about his newly born grandson he almost missed Tom Branson was talking to one of the nurses.

"Tom, what a surprise!" he said and shook the young man's hand.

"I was paying a visit to one of our tenants," Tom explained and added, "The Dowager told us about Amelia. I'm so sorry!"

"Thank you," Dickie said grateful for Tom's kind words. "It was quite a shock."

"I can imagine. How's Larry?" Tom asked, much to Dickie's astonishment. It was no secret Tom and Larry disliked one another to an extent that bordered on hate. Perhaps it was the similar fate of losing a wife in childbirth that had awoken Tom's compassion.

"Not well, I'm afraid…" Dickie said in a low voice. On their way down the hallway Dickie told Tom in few words what had happened since Amelia's death.

Tom didn't seemed surprised, but was not uncaring. "I see. I hope he'll show up soon," Tom said when they entered the small ward where the baby had spent the night. Whatever they had expected to find, it certainly wasn't the scene taking place in front of their eyes.

"Dr Clarkson, I won't listen to this anymore!"

With raised eyebrows Dickie watched his wife snapping at the Clarkson while she was holding the baby in her arms.

"I only meant to be helpful," Clarkson returned just as angry. "But as always you prefer to listen only to yourself!"

"Is everything all right in here?" Dickie cut them off. Isobel whirled around and swallowed when she saw her husband and Tom standing in the doorway.

"Quite all right," she answered in her most stubborn voice. "Hello, Tom. What are you doing here?"

"Just checking in with one of our tenants," Tom answered quickly, clearly embarrassed.

"Excuse me, please." Without bidding hello or goodbye to anyone, Clarkson left the room.

"Won't you come over here and have a look at your grandson?" Isobel asked Dickie and finally managed to fake a smile.

Not sure he actually wanted to know over what Isobel and Clarkson had quarreled about, he stepped closer. He was used to their bickering as he had gotten used to the sparring between Isobel and Dowager Countess. Only with Clarkson he always felt a small sting of jealousy penetrating his heart. Isobel never wanted to hear anything about it, but Dickie was sure, the Doctor still carried a torch for Isobel and would probably do so until he drew his last breath.

"Do you want to hold him?" she asked, causing him to blush.

"I'm not sure…," he started, but before he could phrase a feeble excuse, Isobel had already placed the boy in his arms.

"He's so fragile," he said, clearly flustered. "Are you sure you don't want him back?"

Tom stepped closer as well and looked over Isobel's shoulder. He had to hide a chuckle when he saw the helpless expression on Dickie's face while the baby just yawned, unimpressed by the attention he received. "I cannot detect much similarity to Larry," he said with a grin.

Isobel grinned back at him. "I'm afraid time will tell."

The door opened again and Clarkson returned, one of the maids of Crawley House right on his heels.

"We need an revolving door - just for the members of your household," he said, still sourly.

"What is it?" Isobel asked the maid, completely ignoring Clarkson's presence in the room.

"There was a telephone call from the Royal Hotel in York," the maid said, almost stumbling over her own words. "From Mrs Kent - the one we entertained last night before…. Well, you know…. Apparently Mr Grey is there… The lady said… well, she was quite frank and told me to tell you to get him, before she kicks him out or calls the police or even worse. Her words not mine."

Isobel and Dickie exchanged an exasperated look. "He's with Helen."

"Who's Helen?" Tom asked puzzled.

"That's a long story," Isobel said quickly while Dickie placed the baby back in her arms.

"I'll get him," he decided. "You stay here."

"I'll go with you!" Isobel said determined and put the baby back in the cradle and covered him with a blanket.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Dickie said.

"But I don't want you to go there alone. God knows in what state he is."

"That is exactly the reason I want you to stay here!"

Tom, who had witnessed the back and forth like a tennis match, interrupted them. "May I ask you how you want to get there? Your car is still in our garage and your driver is still in here."

Baffled Isobel and Dickie looked at Tom.

"Why don't I drive you?" he continued. "I can help."

"That's very kind of you, Tom," Dickie said, after he had cleared his throat. "But considering your history with Larry, I doubt it's a good idea."

Tom shrugged. "I promise I won't hit him - unless he hits me first."

"Why don't you continue your discussion somewhere else?" Clarkson barked. "Preferable outside this hospital!"

While Tom and Dickie both reacted rather embarrassed, Isobel was miffed and had no intention to hide it. "I think he's right. It really is too crowded in here!" With her head held high and without paying him another look, she passed the Doctor who rolled his eyes in response.

Royal Hotel in York

"Oh dear…" If Tom had thought being trapped in the middle of a disagreement between Isobel and Clarkson would be awkward, he was in for a real treat when he found himself in Helen Rouquette's bathroom. Larry, drunk and still passed out despite his wet clothes was still lying in the tub, while Tom, Helen, Isobel, and Dickie stood in front of it, conferring about how to get him home. Annabelle was looming in the doorway, watching them like a hawk that was ready to attack.

"I have to memorise this for all eternity," Tom said dryly.

"I rather wouldn't," Dickie said.

"Me neither!" Annabelle spat from behind. "I don't care how you do it, but get him out of here!"

"He's so wet, he'll freeze to death out there!" Helen said. "We should try to get some dry clothes for him."

"Humbug!" Annabelle was furious. "He deserves to freeze."

"You're not being very helpful," Isobel said to Annabelle, while she understood the sentiment behind Annabelle's words. If it were for her, Larry could sleep off his hungover in a prison cell, but for Dicke's sake she wanted to spare him the embarrassment of bailing his son out.

"I could have called the police," Annabelle returned coolly. "Mr Grey's lucky I only called his father. I had no idea he would bring an army with him."

"I suggest we try to wake him up, make him walk," Tom said in an attempt to be productive. "Perhaps someone could order some coffee…" The suggestion was directed at Annabelle who huffed and puffed

"Good idea!" Isobel confirmed.

"I have an idea," Helen said and pointed at Tom and Dickie. "I think we leave you to it. Mother, you go to your room and Lady Merton and I will wait outside and order the coffee!"

Gentle, but determined Helen hushed her mother and Isobel out of the bathroom and across the hotel suite.

"If you think, I'm going to leave…." Annabelle complained when Helen opened the door for her.

"Yes, I think you will leave. You make this worse than it actually is!" Helen hissed. "Just go. Take a nap or read a book, I don't care!"

Annabelle looked from Helen to Isobel and back. It was obvious she didn't want the other two women to be alone, but Isobel decided this was her chance to talk privately to Helen. She gave Annabelle a dismissive shrug and received a nasty look in return. Running out of excuses, Annabelle had to leave the room and Helen sighed relieved, once the door had closed behind her mother.

"I'm sorry, she made such a fuss. She's been intolerable since we left your house last night."

"Well, she's worried about you," Isobel said. "If you were my daughter and Larry lay in your bathtub I would be worried as well, so I don't blame her."

"Speaking of Larry… He's the reason you invited us to dinner, isn't he?" She walked past Isobel and picked up the receiver to order the coffee. After she had finished the call, she offered Isobel a seat.

"Let's say Larry was partially responsible for the invitation," Isobel said, trying to be diplomatic.

Helen sank down on the sofa. "There are some things that don't really add up in my opinion. My husband always says, 'there are no coincidences', and I think he's right. Nothing, Amelia's death aside, that had happened during the last week is a coincidence."

"What do you mean?" Isobel asked suspiciously.

"All right, let me be more specific. I don't know how much or what exactly you know about Larry and me, but perhaps it's time someone told you the truth."

"Go on."

"I met Larry on a passage from New York to Liverpool shortly after the war and we met again last autumn when he was in Vancouver. I think his father-in-law had sent him there for some business venture. As it happened we attended the same cocktail party and got reacquainted. Believe it or not, up until last night I had no idea who Larry's father was. We never talked about family or any of these strings. It never mattered to us… It wasn't important. I had no idea he was the son of a peer or that my own mother used to know that peer before she married my father. I admit I came to England to see Larry…" she broke off, taking her time to come up with the right words. "There are some things I have to come clean about. By coming here I wanted to straighten out my life, I had no intention to complicate it. And what happened? All of the sudden I run into the Larry's father's wife, I sit at his table for dinner, and then Larry shows up on my doorstep right after his wife has died. I'm confused and I'm angry and my mother is not of help as you just saw."

Isobel moved uncomfortable in her seat. She felt sorry for Helen. "I think I see your point," she admitted.

"I'm glad, because my mother is trying to tell me, I'm mad to think all of this could be connected. So, while we wait for the coffee to arrive and Larry to sober up, I suggest you tell me what the hell is going on here! Because otherwise I'll draw my own conclusions and I doubt that won't do any good to any of us!"

Dower House

After the Dowager had returned from luncheon at the Abbey, she sat down behind her Davenport and opened her letters. Two came from two old friends who used to sent their usual Christmas Greetings, the other one came from an acquaintance she had never really liked, but who had proven herself to be a very resourceful ally. As so many times before Violet wasn't disappointed by the contents of the letter. As she had expected it there was more to Dickie Merton's marriage to his first wife than meets the eye. The question was how and when to use the information she had just got hold on…

****tbc****

The plot is thickening... let me know what you think and have a great day :-)