Chapter Sixteen

Downton Abbey

"You did what?" Dickie hissed.

Helen, guilt-stricken, looked down to her feet. "Larry came back to the house last night after you went to bed. He asked me to run away with him. That's when I told him, why I couldn't."

"But couldn't you wait?" Isobel snapped. "You don't even know the half of the story!"

The trio stood in the shadow of one of the pillars near the entrance. They had lowered their voices, because Barrow was standing near by, probably ears dropping.

"I know it wasn't my call, but I didn't want to lie to him anymore."

"Well, you've never been short of a lie before when it suited you!" Isobel gave Helen an angry glare.

"Touchè."

"Ladies, please," Dickie interfered. "Not now."

Helen swallowed, "I agree, we need to find Larry. Something's wrong. I know it!"

"What did they tell you, when you telephoned the estate?" Dickie asked.

"The butler told me, Larry had left the house. There's a letter on his desk… with my name on it."

Isobel sighed, "All right, we need to go there. I'll ask Tom to help us."

Without waiting for anyone to agree or disagree Isobel went to the drawing room.

"What did she mean, when said I wouldn't know half of the story?" Helen asked, once Isobel was out of earshot.

"Later," was all Dickie answered. "Let's concentrate on finding Larry first."

Cavenham Park

Half an hour later Isobel and Helen stormed into Larry's study. The fire had almost died and the small lamp on the desk was flickering. On their way to Cavenham Isobel had noticed that some of the lamp posts along the streets flickered as well. The last thing they needed this night was an electricity failure.

"There it is!" Isobel pointed at the letter leaning against the lamp.

Helen tore the envelope apart and her eyes quickly scanned the lines. "It's a suicide note and a last will," she confirmed her own worst fears. Her voice was shaking as were her hands. "He says I should take care of the baby." She let the letter sink. "That's all my fault."

Isobel noticed the carafe on the desk was empty. "Seems he needed to some Dutch courage to go through with it. Perhaps he's still outside, wandering around." She didn't quite believe Larry would actually kill himself. She never took him for the kind of person who could be desperate enough to take his own life.

"I'll go outside!" Helen rushed to the door, but Isobel's words stopped her. "Where do you want to look? You don't know the estate any better than I do! He could be anywhere."

Helen, the door knob in her hand turned to Isobel. "I cannot sit in here and wait. I have to do something!"

"I understand you," Isobel said.

Helen shook her head and went back to Isobel. "No, you don't, because you don't like Larry. But would you stay in here if the man you love were outside after he threatened to kill himself."

Isobel nibbled at her lower lip, while she contemplated Helen's words. She hated the fuss Larry was making, hated that Dickie was out there in the cold, searching for his son, but she knew Helen had a point. She would do anything to save the man she loved. "I'll go with you. I'll ask the footman for another flashlight."

"I had no idea your estate is this big," Tom said, as he walked next to Dickie. The path someone had shovelled through the snow led then across the lavish park of Cavanham. Both men were carrying flashlights, but since the snowfall had increased, it was almost impossible to track any footprints. The sight was bad and the harsh wind was painful in the eyes. The butler and two other footmen had joined the search and followed them, but they were headed into another direction and didn't show much enthusiasm. Dickie wondered what Larry had done to them to deserve that no one wanted to search for him.

"Larry's estate you mean," Dickie said. "I'm actually glad to be rid of it."

"You know what I meant. Where are we going anyway?"

"There's a treehouse at the other end of the park," Dickie explained. "Larry and Tim used to play up there as children. Every time they played a prank on someone they hid in it. It has a rope ladder. They pulled it up and only came down when they became hungry or too felt. As they grew older they stocked up some food and blankets there. One summer it took them two days to come again. Lady Merton was furious and Nanny almost had a heart attack."

"Why didn't you cut the tree?" Tom asked amused.

"I wanted to, but the late Lady Merton made a big fuss when I suggested it and so I dropped the idea. The boys could do no wrong in her eyes or let's say whatever they did never left a lasting impression on her."

Tom preferred not to comment on that, but he started to understand why Isobel had always felt the house could never be hers.

"It's over there!" Dickie lighted up at an old oak that stand hidden behind a hedge. Tom narrowed his eyes. He saw the tree house that was in good condition for its age. A rope ladder was hanging out of the entrance, moving in the wind.

"I think Larry told me he had someone fixing it, when Amelia told him she was pregnant," Dickie explained, as if he had read Tom's thoughts.

"How sentimental," Tom quipped.

"You're not the first one who said that. I think Amelia said, her children would only play up there over her dead body. Ironic, isn't it?"

They stopped at the tree. The branches around them creaked in the wind and under the weight of the snow. Tom illuminated the entrance of the small house.

"Larry?" he yelled. No one replied. With a heavy sigh, Tom handed Dickie his flashlight. "I'll take a look."

"No, wait…"

"I'll be careful," Tom assured him and tested the strength of the rope. It was new and Tom was sure it would carry him. He was about one three foot in the air, when a shot rang in his ears. An owl, scared up the noise, almost hit him and flew away, shrieking out loudly.

"Larry!" Tom yelled again and hurried up the ladder, as fast as the harsh wind, the cold, and his freezing limp allowed it.

"Did you hear that?" Helen asked, completely startled. "That was a shot, wasn't it?"

"I think so," Isobel agreed. They had taken the path down the driveway that led away from the house and the park. "I think it came from the park."

"Is there a way to enter it from the path?" Helen asked. Isobel shook her head. "I think it's faster if we go back to the house and enter the park from the drawing room."

The women hurried back along the driveway and almost reached the staircase leading to the front door when another shot rang through the night and someone screamed. Both held still for a moment, listening for something else to hear. But there was only the sound of the wind rushing through the trees and over the snowy ground.

"You bloody fool!" Tom yelled at Larry while Larry was clinging to the rope ladder like a pirate to a starting plank.

"I told you to stay away! It was a warning shot!" Larry yelled back as he struggled to reach the ground without slipping away.

"Great shot. I can tell you missed your head!"

Finally standing on his feet, Larry turned to Tom, but struggled with the heavy coat he was wearing. The hem was caught on a small branch of the hedge. "What are you doing here anyway?" Larry asked while he fought with hedge. Tom caught a glimpse of the gun Larry had tucked into his pocket.

"Your father asked me to help him searching for you."

"My father," Larry scoffed. "What a joke… He's not the nice guy you take him for, you know. He has a dark side, too."

"Sure he has and the Dowager Countess is a squirrel. Your mistress is here, too," Tom added. "She's a nice lady, by the way," Tom added. "I wonder what she sees in you."

"Helen's here?" Larry slurred, suddenly uninterested in his coat that was still stuck at the hedge.

"Yes, at the house."

"You better keep your hands off her," Larry said, marched off, and started struggling. Tom could have caught him, but he decided to let Larry fall flat on his face. Perhaps the cold snow helped to clear his head. Larry groaned in pain and Tom sighed half amused, half annoyed. Next to Larry's feet lay a revolver. Realizing it had fallen out of Larry's pocket Tom bent down and picked it up. In the meantime Larry bobbed up and cursed under his breath,"Bloody bastard."

"Takes one to know one," Tom said and bent down to help Larry back on his feet. He was bleeding from his nose. Where he had hit the ground blood had coloured the snow into a deep red. Tom searched his pockets and gave Larry his handkerchief. At first he refused but then Tom forced it into his face and Larry yelled in pain.

"I think my nose is broken!"

"Beauty is only skin deep, Larry. Let's go to the house. Isobel and Helen are waiting for us, and I'm freezing…" Tom broke off when he saw there was more blood in the snow, only a few feet away from them. The he noticed an abandoned flashlight.

"Oh my god!"

Near the traces of blood he recognized two feet. With panic rising in his chest Tom hastened towards Dickie who lay out flat in the snow.

"There's blood on his arm and he's unconscious," Tom said after he had checked his pulse and looked az his hands after he had touched Dickie's upper arm.

"What?!" Larry kneeled down next to Tom. He still pressed the handkerchief onto his bleeding nose.

"You know what?" Tom asked angrily. "I think your bloody warning shot hit him!"

"That's not possible! I didn't mean to shoot anyone but myself!" Larry threw the handkerchief away and touched his father's shoulder.

"Father!" he yelled and shook him. "Father!" Did he just imagine it or did Tom hear panic in Larry's voice?

Dickie groaned and his eyes flickered open.

"We need to get him back to the house!" Tom ordered. "Quickly! It's too cold out here."

Larry rose, struggled to keep his balance, but helped Tom to lift his father's weight.

"I think it's his shoulder," Tom said, as Larry placed Dickie's arm around him. "Can you carry him?"

"Yes, go to the house and call the Doctor," Larry said, suddenly sober, his face blood-smeared. "I'll get him there."

As the house came nearer Tom saw that Isobel and Helen were rushing towards him.

"What happened?"

"Who was shooting?" the two women asked unisono.

"Isobel, I need you to call the Doctor," Tom said out of breath. He decided he wouldn't tell her Dickie was the one who got hit by a bullet just yet.

"Is he hurt? Did Larry try to kill himself?" Helen asked, grabbing Tom's collar with both of her hands.

Isobel noticed a small trace of blood on Tom's cheek.

"How bad is it?" she asked.

"I can't tell. Just hurry!" Isobel nodded and turned on her heels. While she rushed back to the house, Helen passed Tom and pulled him with her. "I'll go with you!"

Tom took a second to catch his breath and then he said, "Wait, a second. It's not Larry who is hurt. It's Lord Merton."

Helen stopped dead in her tracks and whirled around. "What?" she asked aghast.

"But who?"

"It was an accident. Larry fired a shot to startle us and…."

Helen pressed her hand over her mouth. "Where are they?"

"Down the path. We have to help Larry to get him back here."

Helen, just nodded. Lost of words, she just followed Tom down the path.

After she had called Doctor Clarkson who wasn't pleased about her interrupting his evening, she went back to the deserted drawing room. It seemed Helen had joined Tom outside. Feeling how a cold shiver suddenly overwhelmed her, Isobel snuggled deeper into her coat. Sure, it was the house who caused her unease, she did her best to ignore her surroundings. The clock on the mantelpiece struck eleven times. Now she understood why Clarkson had been so unhappy about her call. She had lost track of time completely this evening. But why had he still been at the hospital at this time?

Too tired to think about Clarkson's holiday habits she looked outside. Finally she saw the small group of four people with their heads bent down to protect their faces from the painful storm. They slowly moving down the path. The heavy snow fall made it hard to make out who was who, but something about the composition of the congregation seemed wrong. Tom was the smallest of the men and he was walking next to Helen in front of the others. Larry and Dickie were almost about the same size, but Isobel doubted Dickie could actually drag an injured Larry across the icy park, which could only mean that…

"Dickie!" All the weariness had suddenly faded and turned into utter fear. She rattled at the french doors until they opened and ran down the stairs. Yelling Dickie's name, she almost slipped on the icy stones, but her adrenaline kept her up right. Tom caught her when she finally reached the small group.

"Dickie! What happened?"

"He'll be fine," Tom said as reassuring as possible. "It's just his shoulder."

Isobel barely heard him, struggled to break from his grip around her waist.

"Please, calm down," Helen pleaded, as she ran into Isobel and almost knocked her over. "We need to get to the house!"

Larry, out of breath and again bleeding from his nose struggled to move his father along.

"Dickie!" Isobel yelled, as Tom dragged her back towards to the house.

Dickie's eyes flickered when heard Isobel's voice. "It's all right," he just mumbled.

"Bloody hell," Larry mumbled. "Helen, help me!" Helen rushed to Larry's side and took over for him. Larry turned around, bent over and got sick in the snow.

Tom let go off Isobel and helped Helen to move Dickie up the staircase. "I got him" Tom said, when they had reached the french doors. "Go to Larry."

With Isobel on their heels Tom brought Dickie into the drawing room, while Helen stayed outside and rushed to Larry who was now kneeling in the snow. Together Isobel and Tom led Dickie to the narrow chesterfield.

"Careful!" Isobel ordered Tom, as he almost tripled over the leg of a chair.

"The doctor is on his way," Isobel said to Dickie, as she took a closer look at her wounded husband. She took his face into her hands. He was pale and there was cold sweat on his forehead. "He's on his way. You'll feel better soon!"

"It's not so bad," Dickie said between clenched teeth. "I've been shot before… it's not so bad."

Isobel opened his coat with shaking hands.

"You have to get out of this," she said more to herself than to him. "Tom, the room is not warm enough. We need a fire and a blanket."

"Yes."

"Call, the butler. We need brandy."

"Yes," he repeated. He rose and took off his wet coat. The gun that was so annoyingly heavy fell to the floor. He gingerly picked it up and placed it onto the mantelpiece. Behind him Dickie groaned when Isobel removed his coat, the white tie, and the dinner jacket.

"You lost some blood," she said quietly and looked closely at the wound and the bloodsoaked shirt. "The bullet's still in there. Tom, how did this happen?"

"It was an accident," Tom answered vaguely while piled up some woods in the fireplace.

"How?" Isobel asked again. Her voice had lost its former high pitched timbre. She sounded calm and collected - and colder than Tom had ever heard it before.

"Take a wild guess," he said. "Larry was drunk and fired a warning shot into the dark." He went to the door and yelled for one of the servants. A minute later, a young footman appeared at the door.

"We need brandy and more wood. The doctor will be here soon. Keep an eye on the door," Tom ordered and quickly closed the door when the servant tried to peek in to see what was happening inside.

When he turned he saw Isobel still kneeling next to her husband. She wiped his forehead gently with her handkerchief and spoke softly to him.

Suddenly feeling like an intruder, he turned away. He looked out of the French door and watched Helen and Larry. Supported by Helen Larry slowly climbed up the stairs. Pale and trembling Larry entered the room just as two footmen came in, one brought the brandy, another one carried a batch of firewood. Isobel didn't pay Larry a single look. She stayed next to Dickie, held his hand, and wiped his forehead.

Helen dumped Larry onto a chair and tried to clean his face, which was a useless task since his nose kept on bleeding.

Just as the Doctor entered the room, Tom remembered the gun on the mantelpiece. He quickly crossed the room to hide it somewhere else, but it was gone. He looked around, hoping one of the others gave him a sign or a hint, but no one paid attention to him. Larry said on a chair, his head bent back, Helen stood next to Isobel and together they listened to instructions from Clarkson.

Unsure whether to be worried or not, Tom opened the brandy, and poured himself a large drink. He thought he deserved it.

******tbc*******

That was long... but I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. Let me know what you think!