Chapter Eleven

Royal Hotel, York

As soon as Isobel had finished telling Helen about her true identity, she regretted it. While listening to her the young woman had become pale as a freshly starched sheet and despite sitting safely on the sofa, her one hand was grabbing for something to hold on to. Helen looked so mortified as if she just had witnessed someone dying.

"I'm sorry," Isobel said as she grabbed for Helen's free, trembling hand. "But there was no gentle way of telling you."

"Why couldn't she tell me? My mother?"

"I think she's scared, but you see now why this relationship with Larry… has to change."

"Of course…" Helen freed her hand and rose quickly. "You have to get him out of here!" she stated, her panic rising with every passing second. "And you have to do it quick! I need to be alone."

"Of course, you see I'm sure…," Isobel was cut off when the door to the bathroom opened. Tom had placed Larry's arm over his shoulders while he dragged him across the room. Larry was awake now, but unsteady on his feet. Dickie was on their heels, carrying Larry's wet coat.

"I think, it's best we leave now," Tom said, panting under Larry's weight. "Come on, Larry. Let's go and don't forget to keep quiet…"

"I don't want to leave…," he said, when he saw Helen who stared at him as if he were a ghost. "Helen, we need to talk…."

"You have to go!" she told him sternly. "Go home and take care of your son…"

"My son….?"

"Do as you're told. It's for the best, you'll see. And don't forget to be kind."

Larry shook his head and mumbled, "Nothing's good…. And there's no reason to be kind… and why's this chauffeur here anyway?"

Tom rolled his eyes. "The lady's right. Do as you're told and nobody gets hurt!"

Dickie gave Isobel the coat and took Larry's arm. "Let's go. Helen…"

She frowned, but turned to Dickie and gave him a forced smile. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience. Please, tell your mother…."

"I won't… tell her anything at least not today. As for Larry: take good care of him. He needs someone who does. And sometimes he needs someone who tells him what to do!"

Perplexed by Helen's rough statement Dickie looked at Isobel who blushed instantly and quickly lowered her eyes. It was enough admission for him to understand what she had done. She felt his eyes on her and looked up again, hoping he'd read on her face that she was given no other choice. Her hopes were destroyed when she saw his jaws clenching.

"Let's go, Tom," Dickie said and gave Isobel a long, hard look. "We'll wait for you at the car."

Crawley House

When Isobel and Dickie returned to Crawley House it was already dark and almost time for dinner. Isobel asked Tom to stay, but he kindly refused with the excuse that the Crawleys were expecting him. Isobel had the inkling that Tom had had enough of the Grey family for one day and she didn't blame him. At least Larry hadn't made a complete fool of himself when Tom had manoeuvert him from the hotel in York to his bedroom in Cavenham Park, where he probably still slept off his hungover.

During the afternoon Amelia's parents had finally contacted them and had informed them about their return to England in time for the funeral. Since Larry was too far off to make any decisions, Dickie had taken charge and had made the necessary arrangements. He hadn't spoken to her unless it had been necessary and his silent treatment was nothing she stomached easily. After her row with Clarkson in the morning and the unpleasant conversation with Helen, the last thing she needed was him being angry with her. She contemplated to pay a call to the Dowager to talk things over with her, but then she decided against it and endured a rather silent supper.

She knew he hated arguing in front of the servants and she expected him to question her once they had retreated to their bedroom, but even there he kept his silence. His perseverance was something she used to admire, but at times it drove her mad and tonight was one of those nights.

His nose hidden behind a book he sat in bed and she was sitting at her dressing table. She watched his reflection in the mirror while she was combing her hair.

"You know, it's easier to read a book when you don't hold it upside down," she said snappily.

Feeling caught, he let the book sink. "If you don't want to talk to me, you should come up with a more elegant way to ignore me. I'm sure your marriage with Ada has taught you some very valuable ways to avoid your wife."

She knew it was a low blow, but she felt like leashing out, especially now that he had dished her the perfect opportunity. She gave his reflection a glaring look and waited for his response.

He crooked his eyebrows and put the book on the bedside cabinet. His movements were deliberately slow, and she didn't know whether he was thinking of a reply or trying to infuriate her.

"I'm not quite sure, you should be the one spoiling for a fight, but if you wish to do so, you can do so at the hospital," he said with a shrug.

"I beg your pardon?!" She turned around to face him.

"I think you heard me."

"I did hear you, but I haven't the faintest idea what you're talking about. I thought this was about Helen!"

"Oh, it is, partially. Why did you tell her the truth? We had an agreement!"

Isobel scoffed, "I can't remember any kind of agreement. All, I know what something had to tell her the truth after everyone was keeping her in the dark as if she were some fragile child. She's a grown woman and deserves better than that."

"It still wasn't your call to tell her!"

"Well, it was pretty obvious to me you wouldn't!"

"Annabelle…"

"I really don't care for Annabelle and what she says!" Her voice had reached a high pitched tone that she hated on herself. She drew a deep breath to calm her nerves.

"Look, all I'm saying is that Annabelle should have told her daughter the truth as soon as she realized who Larry was. Instead she came all the way from Canada to England to have you taken care of the mess, she created. Did you never ask yourself why she involved you in the first place?"

"I assume she's still angry with me, because I married someone else," Dickie said and his almost unfeeling attitude towards his own words stoked up her anger again.

"In other words she's 'the woman scorned' and wants revenge. Well, you might be ready to play after her rules, but I'm not. I don't intend to be pushed around by her, especially not now that we have a funeral ahead and baby in the hospital fighting for his life!"

She turned back to the mirror and looked for a ribbon to tie up her hair.

"Speaking of pushing…. It became quite obvious today that Doctor Clarkson can push your buttons any day he likes." He picked up his book and opened it. Isobel froze and stared into the mirror. This time he held it the right way and seemed oblivious to her state of shock. She had hoped changing the subject to Helen would have avoided a conversation about her annoying argument with the Doctor.

"And what on earth did you mean by that remark?" She heard herself asking against her better judgement.

"I think you know what I meant," he answered without looking up from his book.

"I don't," she told his reflection.

After a full minute of silence, in which only the cracking of the burning wood in the fireplace was heard, he finally looked up. She was still sitting at her dressing table and stared into the mirror. Deeply lost in her own thoughts she didn't notice him leaving the bed. Only when he sank down next to her, she startled.

"Why are you crying, Isobel?" he asked, sounding much more gentle than all evening.

"What? I'm not…," she blinked and noticed that there indeed tears running down her cheeks. He picked a handkerchief out of her drawer and gave it to her.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"Don't be… I'm sorry, if I hurt you," he said quietly.

"It's not so much what you said… you were right."

"What did Clarkson say that had you so upset?"

"He basically told me that I shouldn't try to replace Matthew with Larry's boy. He phrased it differently, but I know what he meant. He also reminded me of our age and how he felt about me getting married when we thought you were dying. He thinks I have a neurotic wish to help other people."

Dickie drew a deep breath and waited for her to continue. "The fact is no one can replace Matthew and I'm not trying to do to so, no matter how tempting it is to have a baby boy around," Isobel continued. "And I didn't marry you because I thought you were dying - though I admit, it speeded up my decision." She blew her nose and put the handkerchief back into the drawer.

"Speeded up?" Dickie asked. "You made me wait for you for years!"

She turned her face to him and saw he was smirking. "What's so funny?" she asked.

He shrugged, "You… us… aren't we a little too old to be this jealous?"

"I'm not jealous," Isobel said stubbornly. "I just want Mrs Kent to get lost forever."

"I'm afraid it won't be this easy to get rid off her," Dickie said with another sigh. "And since I won't get rid off Clarkson any time soon, I think we can call it even."

"I wish you wouldn't feel bothered by him." She leaned her head against his shoulder.

"Well, he's bothered by me, which, I guess, is understandable since I didn't do him the favour of dropping dead right after our wedding."

"Stop talking like this!" she said, truly disturbed by his words.

"Perhaps I should have a conversation with him. Man to man."

"Oh, please, don't even think of it!" The mere idea of the two men arguing about her caused her to feel embarrassed.

"Why not? Did I ever tell you that I was quite successful in the boxing ring in Eton?"

Against her wish she had to chuckle,"No, you didn't."

"Well, now you do. Really, my punch was legendary. In 1873."

They shared a laugh and then she became serious again. "All, I want is for our life to become less complicated again. Without Annabelle Kent or anyone else to disturb us. Now that Helen knows the truth she'll probably leave anyway and for that I'm truly sorry. You should have the chance to get to know your daughter."

He kissed her forehead. "Perhaps I will, though I'm afraid this conversation will have to wait until the funeral is over."

"I guess, you're right." She sat up and took his hand, pulling him up with her. "And now you can take me to bed - unless you want to exercise for your next boxing gig."

He swung her into an embrace and slowly pulled the ribbon out of her hair. "I think our bed will do for tonight."

*tbc*

Thanks for reading and for everyone who takes their time to drop a little review.

I doubt I'll be able to post another chapter of this story before Christmas, so I hope this will keep you entertained until I'm back. Merry Christmas to everyone. Enjoy yourself and take good care of yourself! See you soon :-) GraceBe