Happy New Year! I hope you all had a good start into 2019. Mine was rather bad, so I hope the year will improve soon. Enjoy the new chapter and don't forget to let me know what you think. I always love to read about your theories. To the anon who asked about the place where Amelia is buried... When I wrote 'Downton', I meant the village, not the estate of the Crawleys where the Abbey is located. Perhaps I should have been more specific about it...

Chapter Thirteen

Downton Hospital

After a walk through the village that didn't do anything to clear her head, Isobel entered the hospital to visit the baby. Perhaps holding the little one achieved what her exercise in the snowy streets of the Downton village couldn't. Sometimes she hated Violet's sneaky nature. Why did she even allow the Dowager to make inquiries in the first place? The answer was easy: because her jealousy of Annabelle had made her blind for possible implications. As much as she disliked Larry, she hated to think how much it would hurt Dickie to find out, he wasn't his son.

Again she found herself cursing Annabelle for her mere presence in their lives.

Glad she didn't run into Dr Clarkson, because he was the last person she wanted to see at a day like this, she entered the small ward, where the baby used to be. She stopped right in the doorway, when she saw Helen Rouquette standing at the window, the baby in her arms. The young woman didn't notice her, because she was occupied with the child. Isobel heard her softly humming for him while rocking him gently.

"Good morning," Isobel said, as she entered the room.

Surprised Helen turned around. "Lady Merton, I hope you don't mind."

"I'm more surprised actually," she admitted flatly and looked around. "Where's the nurse?"

"She is searching for something. I told her I would look after him until she's back."

Isobel looked down into Helen's arms. The baby was fast asleep and seemed very content. "He's doing well." Helen said with a smile. "He's quite strong."

"Yes, he is," Isobel said and felt the sudden wish to take the child. It was a protective instinct, quite childish and unnecessary and she forced herself to leave the baby with Helen.

"Has Larry finally chosen a name?"

Isobel shook her head, "Not yet. But it's time he picked one, if you ask me."

"I agree…"

Isobel watchen Helen with growing discomfort. "You're making this rather hard on yourself," she finally said.

"That's just what my mother said," Helen smirked. "But the longer I think about it, the more I come to the conclusion that she doesn't know me very well. Did she tell you I was here?"

"I beg your pardon?" Isobel was puzzled.

"She told me she wanted to visit you at Crawley House. I thought she made you a scene and sent you over here to get me."

Isobel shook her head. "No, but I wasn't home for the last hour and Dickie is…. He left for Cavenham this morning. I don't know if he's back yet." Suddenly hating the idea that Annabelle and Dickie could sit together at Crawley House, her house, and discuss Helen and Larry without her being there, she considered leaving the hospital at once to rush home.

"She didn't want me to come here, but I couldn't stay away. God knows, I'll never hold a baby from Larry in my arms again. I think I deserve this."

Isobel bit her lower lip and shrugged a bit helpless. "If you feel this way."

Helen chuckled, "You don't like him very much, do you?"

"Let's say the feeling is mutual."

"I'm not surprised. He loved his mother very much, but I think she was a rather strange woman. She certainly left her mark on him and made sure no one replaced her."

"You knew her?" Isobel asked surprised.

Helen nodded. "I met her in Southampton once… a short time before she died. At first I thought it was a coincidence, because I was accompanying my husband on a business trip. I think she was visiting some cousin who happened to be the host of the dinner party where Alain and I were invited. She happened to mention that her son was working for a big London bank and I quickly realized she was Larry's mother. He's got her eyes, you know. Anyway, at first she was quite nice, but as the evening progressed and she realized Larry and I were friends, she suddenly became… well, not rude, but very cold. A real cold fish."

"Didn't you say, you had no idea Larry was Lord Merton's son?" Isobel asked suspiciously.

Helen blushed, "I admit I exaggerated a bit to make you talk… Please, forgive me."

Isobel sighed, "I guess none of it makes a difference now." She leaned over and touched the baby's hand. "You really need a name," she said.

"How about Richard?" Helen asked.

"Well, I won't suggest it, because Larry won't listen to me, but if you want to try your luck, be my guest. I'm sure Dickie would be very proud."

The nurse came in, a bundle of new sheets on her arm.

"Didn't you say your name is Mrs Rouquette?" she asked in her best, rough Yorkshire accent.

"Yes, I am."

"They brought a lady in who was run over by car in the middle of the street. She says she's your mother. She wants to see you."

Helen's face lost her colour and Isobel gasped. "Oh my god!" She quickly placed the baby in Isobel's arm. "Where's she?" Helen asked, already on her way out.

"Down the corridor and then to the left…."

"Is anyone else hurt?" Isobel asked, fearing Dickie could be involved as well.

"No, Mylady, but his Lordship was the one who helped bring her in. Perhaps he knows more."

Isobel swallowed and put the baby in the arm of the nurse. With a waving coat, Isobel rushed down the hallway in search of Dickie. Every time she heard something about a car accident, she almost lost it. Her panic was rising with every second she didn't find him and her imagination got the better of her. She finally found him in Dr Clarkson's office, where Dickie was talking to the Doctor.

"What happened?" she asked, almost breathless. Her relief about him being unharmed was so overwhelming that she wanted to cry. She took his hand and completely forgot to greet Dr Clarkson who registered Isobel's concern for Dickie with the usual annoyance.

"Your family friend had an accident," the Doctor informed he, before Dickie could say it. "She was run over by a car when she crossed the street. Apparently she was in a hurry and didn't pay attention."

"Will she be all right?"

"She'll live," Clarkson answered composed. "Lord Merton was the hero who picked her up from the street and called for help. If you'll excuse me now. I have to look after her."

Dickie repaid Clarkson phrasing with a crooked eyebrow and Clarkson left without another word. Isobel suspected he was still miffed, because of their argument from a few days ago and decided to ignore him.

"What happened?" she asked Dickie in a low voice, when she was sure, the Doctor was out of hearing.

"Well, she was waiting for me when I came back from Cavenham. We argued and then she ditched me and the next I hear are the brakes of a car. I went to see what happened and saw her lying on the street."

Isobel took his arm and leaned against him. "You argued? About what?"

"About you." He shrugged and looked over his shoulder. "Let's talk about it later."

She understood his wish not to be overheard by anyone and agreed. With her voice lowered to a whisper, she said, "I almost forgot. Helen's here. She came to see the baby."

"I know. Annabelle told me. She was furious about it."

Noise came from the hallway. They turned and saw how Clarkson and Helen went down the hallway, deeply lost in a conversation. While watching Helen an idea crossed her mind. She stretched a bit and gave Dickie a kiss on the cheek. Surprised he looked at her and wrinkled his forehead, as if he suspected she was up to something.

"Do you trust me?" she asked.

"With my life."

She responded with a loving smile,"Good, because I have an idea."

Before Clarkson decided to call it a night, he paid his latest patient one last visit. To his satisfaction Mrs Annabelle Kent was fast asleep. He looked down on her and smiled. She had not suffered from internal injuries; with a broken leg and a minor wound where the back of her head had hit the slippery road, she could call herself more than lucky. Every time he looked at her, he couldn't shake the feeling a certain familiarity. There was something about her that reminded him of someone. Perhaps it was the blond hair, perhaps her posture… Whatever it was, he would find out and if not, he was glad to have met her anyway.

Crawley House

After midnight Isobel was still wide awake. She was lying next to Dickie, her arm wrapped around his chest. Her body was still recovering from their lovemaking, but she sensed how Dickie was slowly drifting away into sleep. When she was sure he was asleep, she slipped out of bed and picked up her dressing robe.

She sneaked into the hallway. On her tiptoes she passed the guest room where Helen hopefully slept peacefully. After the car accident Isobel had convinced Dickie to invite Helen to stay at Crawley House - at least until Annabelle was better. After a short hesitation Helen had accepted and now Isobel hoped father and daughter would get to know each other better. The dinner was an awkward, but promising start. She doubted Annabelle would like the idea of Helen sleeping under Dickie's roof, but she was ready to face that issue when it came up.

In Dickie's study, Isobel switched on the small desk lamp, before she opened the boxes Dickie had left near the fireplace. Perhaps she found something in Ada's memories that confirmed the rumours about Larry's real heritage.

*****tbc*****